Читать книгу Lord Dragon's Conquest - Sharon Ashwood - Страница 9

Chapter Two

As soon as the woman—Keltie—was out of sight and earshot, Larkan strode toward the massive creature. It arched a long serpentine neck, faint light gleaming on blue-black scales. Massive batlike wings unfurled with a leathery whisper, filling the cave yet more shadow. The only relief was in the twin fires of its golden eyes. As Larkan neared, the dragon bared its fangs with a rattling hiss.

“Who gave you permission to leave the den?” Larkan demanded in the dragon tongue, taking a quick glance behind him to be doubly sure Keltie was safely gone. Her absence was a comfort. His body was still tight and hot, as if being near her had ignited embers within his flesh. He had wanted an afternoon’s escape, some time alone to think about the upcoming festival day, but now he wanted to turn and follow wherever she had gone.

As he’d tried to tell her, the cave was full of perils. For him, a woman like that might just qualify. There was no place in his existence for an outsider. His role was clear: he was first among the Flameborn. Keltie Clarke was not one of them.

Distraction was a mistake. The dragon snapped, saber-sharp teeth slicing the air just inches from Larkan’s face. Larkan grabbed one of its pointed ears—not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to show he meant business. “Calm down.”

The dragon let out a whine—or as close to a whine as a lizard the size of a bear could manage. A puff of steam curled from the flaring nostrils, but Larkan held fast. “That’s enough!”

The creature made a grumbling noise. Shimmers of greenish light played over the dragon’s hide as it began to shrink, the wings folding into its back, the lashing tail disappearing in a wisp of sparkling mist. Larkan caught a sharp, cool scent like snow on herbs, and then suddenly the light was gone. Where the great lizard had been, a boy of about seven squirmed in Larkan’s grip. He was gangly and dirty, and completely without clothes.

“Mickel,” Larkan growled. There were few things under the mountain as troublesome as an adventurous juvenile. He released the boy, who scampered a few steps away and then turned to glare at Larkan. The next moment, Mickel seemed to think better of that plan and scowled at his bare feet instead.

“Does your master know you are here?” Larkan asked, already sure that the answer was no. Dragons did not leave the mountain—not since ancient times, when the Old Ones had returned to the Summerland through the rift. At the same time, the priests and lawgivers had ordered those who remained behind to go beneath the earth, and for centuries none had seen the skies. Now an exception was made for only the strongest of the warriors. Someone needed to guard the mountain, and for the time being that someone was Larkan.

Mickel looked up, and in his face Larkan now recognized a mix of hero worship and defiance. “I wanted to see the outside. I want to fly like you.”

The words made something twist in Larkan’s chest. What would it be like to have a son of my own? He softened his voice, mixing a little kindness into its habitual steel. “The first rule as a warrior is to obey orders. You were told to report for chores.”

Mickel’s face fell. He scuffed the floor with one grubby foot. “Can’t I just look outside the cave?”

Larkan felt a stab of sympathy as he put a hand on the youngling’s shoulder. The outside was glorious, with crystal-blue skies and thrusting mountains, but there were complications even Larkan barely understood. He thought again of the woman, with her large, dark eyes and the heat she had brought to his aching skin. No human had ever drawn him in that way, and he prayed none would again. “I promise I will take you out when you are a little older. You have to fly fast and strong out there.”

Mickel stopped squirming and looked up from under his brows. “You will? Really?”

“I promise, and I wouldn’t promise unless I meant it.”

The boy thumped into Larkan’s legs, giving him an awkward boy’s hug before leaping away in one elated bound. “We will fly and fly and fly!”

Mickel’s glee caught at his heart, but Larkan took a mental step away. According to ancient law, dragons belonged to the earth.

“Fly, fly!” Mickel crowed, sticking out his arms and zooming around in a circle.

“But not today, boy. Not yet,” Larkan said gently. “Now get moving. Back to your chores. And don’t leave the den without permission. There was a human in the cave.”

“Was I scary?” Mickel asked with gruesome satisfaction. “I should have roared.”

“Go.” Larkan gave Mickel a light push toward home.

With a heavy sigh, Mickel trudged forward. The cave with the paintings narrowed, feeding into a passageway set deep into the stone. Larkan strode to the end of the passage and pushed against the blank wall, speaking a word in his own tongue. There was a slight grating sound, and the wall slid away on a perfectly balanced mechanism. Beyond it was a stairway hewn into the stone.

A moment later, the wall slid closed behind them, leaving no trace that anyone had been there.

* * *

Keltie pounded back into the caves, hoisting the branch in one hand and the light in the other.

But it was empty—no monster, no Larkan. She stopped, winded, her lungs heaving for air as she looked around. A breeze skittered dry leaves along the stones behind her, a dead, hollow scrape that echoed weirdly along the walls. “Hello?” she called out softly. Her voice came back to her, sounding lonely.

Cautiously, she took one step and then another, shining the light into every corner and behind each of the huge boulders, dreading that she would find Larkan sprawled and mangled, or that she would find blood. Nothing. There was a layer of dirt and stray pine needles on the cave floor, but it wasn’t enough to show clear footprints.

Keltie found another passage angling away from the back of the cave. It was only a dozen yards long and dead-ended in a lump of stone. This was where the Thing had to have come from, but how? And where had it gone? Cold fear squeezed Keltie’s ribs, but her mind grew sharp and clear. She was a scientist. She would find answers. There had to be a hidden passage somewhere.

Swearing softly, she retreated through the string of caves, tossing aside the branch she had been carrying. She would have to return to the camp and get help. No one would believe a crazy tale of strange men and monsters, but the paintings would make up for it. Switzer would sneer, but then again, he always did.

Keltie paused, just for a single heartbeat, before the artwork. She was about to surrender it to the world, and she only had that instant to keep it all to herself. A wave of awe rushed through her, almost like the choking pain that came with tears, but she swallowed it and turned to leave. There were more urgent things than even her beautiful discovery.

And she walked straight into Larkan. Leaping back with a gasp, she bumped into one of the boulders strewn across the floor. She stumbled, dropping the flashlight. The sudden darkness made her cry out. He grabbed her upper arms to steady her. “Be careful.”

“You’re a fine one to talk.” The words came out snappishly, but her heart was pounding with fright. She’d let herself forget her surroundings, allowing him to sneak up on her. He might have been the monster, jaws gaping to eat her alive.

“You are displeased,” Larkan said, sounding amused.

“I thought you were dead. Dragged away to be eaten by that monster.”

Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light of the cave. He smiled, but his amusement was fading into something more quizzical. “Monster? I’m clearly not dead, and yet you are still upset.”

“You scared me, and now I feel like an idiot.”

“How am I responsible for that?”

Keltie started to pull away but stopped, deciding she liked the feel of his hands. Now that the emergency was over, she felt strangely limp, not to mention annoyed. “I followed you because I thought you were in trouble and might need help.”

Shock widened his eyes. “You came back to save me?” He sounded incredulous.

“You have a problem with that?”

“No. But I am sorry to have alarmed you. It seems our peril was just a large bat after all.”

“A bat?” Keltie couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. “Are you sure about that, cowboy?”

He did a bad job of looking innocent. “What else would it be?”

“I dunno, but it made Godzilla look like a munchkin.”

His mouth turned down. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“Yes.” And yet there wasn’t much conviction in the word. Whatever she’d seen in the cave was receding from her mind. Larkan held her so closely that mere inches were between them. Inches of what felt like super-heated air.

Keltie tried to read the look on his face. “What’s the matter?”

His mouth curled, a wry half smile that made her swallow hard. “I’m not accustomed to being rescued.”

“We all deserve it now and then.”

His breath escaped in something between a laugh and a sigh. “Is that so?”

“It is.” After all, he’d stood between her and danger. That had been a dizzying moment, as if her existence had suddenly reshaped itself right there in the clean, snow-tinged air. “And besides, there was the painting to think of. I couldn’t have an overgrown bat bumping into it and destroying the paint.”

Larkan lifted a brow. “Then I was only part of your motivation?”

“I’m a professor looking for tenure. A find like that means everything to me. And apart from all that, it’s a piece the world needs to see. Regardless of its historical importance, it’s beautiful artwork. The use of line and color, the vision of the painter...” She trailed off, frozen by the confusion on his face. “You’re not big on art, are you?”

“I understand beauty, but I rarely hear people speak of drawings like that.” There was admiration in his tone, but it was also marked with caution.

“ Freedom of expression truly is a natural right.” Keltie felt her skin grow warm as her enthusiasm rose. “ No matter when this painter walked the earth, he or she had something to tell people—maybe about hunting, or about some deity who was important to his or her kin. And their work still has the power to speak to us now.”

“You live in a very different world than I do,” he said softly.

“Then visit mine.” She wasn’t sure where the words had come from. Maybe straight from some part of her that had more hutzpah than her waking mind.

“Very well.” Larkan looked at her, his deep green eyes half-hooded, almost sleepy. He bent so gradually that Keltie wasn’t sure at first what was going on, but then his lips were on hers.

She had been kissed, but had never been kissed. Not like this. Not like she was suddenly changing states from a solid to a shimmer of pure light. His mouth was hot and amazingly soft against hers—and surprisingly tentative for all that heat, as if he was unsure of what she might do.

Hesitation made sense. Larkan was a stranger. He had no business kissing her, much less the way he was doing it, like he might melt her from the inside out with just his touch. Keltie hovered on her toes, part of her wanting to bolt because the kiss had been so unexpected. He wasn’t forcing her, but she was still nailed to the spot with surprise.

And then one kiss turned into two, the second an expression of pure hunger. Her first instinct was to argue and reason, but her words died unspoken. Her sudden scorching awareness of her needs had little to do with everyday logic. She ran her hands from his arms up the hard strength of his shoulders, easing herself closer until they stood like a single figure in the shadowy cave. And they kissed, and kissed again.

When they broke apart, Larkan still didn’t let her go, and she was more than fine with that. And yet, with a pang she could feel his mood shift from pure desire to something like sadness. When she murmured a protest, he moved one hand to her forehead, as if she were burning with fever. His touch was gentle but intrusive, as if somehow it exerted pressure on her very thoughts.

“You do not want to return to this cave, Keltie Clarke.” His voice was filled with regret.

Her response was immediate. “What are you talking about?”

“Hush.”

Now she was angry. “Of course I want to come back! Those paintings...”

“Hush.” He pressed his palm harder against her forehead. “Don’t speak of them to anyone else. It’s very important that you keep silent.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” She tried to push away, but now he was holding her fast.

His mouth turned down, hard and unhappy. “Don’t speak of me. Don’t tell anyone of this place or bring anyone here. Forget me and don’t come back.”

“No!” And yet her anger was shredding to wisps, her will turned gossamer and useless. What Larkan was demanding broke her heart, and yet somehow she couldn’t feel it. It was as if he’d wrapped her mind in soft cotton, but not enough to blunt her curiosity. “Why not? This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Her question hung in the air, echoing against the hollows of the cave walls. Did she mean the paintings, or him, or all of the above? She wasn’t sure.

Larkan fixed her with his green gaze. Something far more powerful than an ordinary man looked down on her. “I want to fly through the moon and stars and sky all day and every night,” he said. “Sometimes what we want just isn’t possible.”